


Low Tar

by Perrault



Category: Sicario (2015)
Genre: Alejandro/Kate - Freeform, F/F, F/M, I am shit, I don't even fucking know anymore, More shit I wrote really quickly, People are mean to Kate, Sweet Jesus why do I do this to this poor girl, and not because there's any actual sexual tension in this particular fic, but just because we all know that's a thing, kbai, lesbian sex is nice though, like really a lot, my spanish is shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5072863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perrault/pseuds/Perrault
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet another hook up gone awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Low Tar

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my Jesus, I don't even know what this is. Just...fuck, ignore this. I'm not good at writing smut, I'm not, and lesbian smut is way more difficult than what I ever anticipated.
> 
> Despite this, again, I am a whore for comments. Leave the comments on the dresser when you leave.

It’s been fucking years since Kate’s picked up a girl. Not since college. She’d met Evan the night of a graduation party and well, the rest as they say, is history. Namely she and Evan. They’re history. And that still fucking hurts, even after nine months.

They’d been over for a while. To tell the truth, Kate blames the cigarettes. Evan wanted a baby, and she didn’t want to quit her smokes or her job.

She was two weeks into Nicorette patches and gum when he served her the papers.

Now it’s nine months later and her breath smells like Indian Creek low tar and dark beer with an undercurrent of the white hot mint of her toothpaste.

“Kate.”

Is somebody talking to her? Can’t be. Sounds like a man, and she’s in a bar. She doesn’t talk to men in bars anymore.

“Kate. Kate. Macer!”

Kate’s eyes refocus as Reggie snaps his fingers under her nose.

“What the fuck, Kate?” Reggie’s eyes look strained.

“I’m fine,” Kate waves her hand as she turns back to her beer.

“No you’re not. You’re goddamn all over the place, your fucking eyes were glazing over.” Reggie’s henning her now. “You know, we shouldn’t have come out, it’s too soon.”

“No!” Kate barks, and Reggie shushes her.

“No,” Kate repeats. “This is my home, Reg. Nobody gets to take that away from me, let alone two CIA motherfuckers who rip up the Constitution and piss on its corpse before breakfast.”

Reg snorts. “Fine. Well what are we gonna do? ‘Cause frankly I saw you play pool once, and it was fucking pathetic, and that’s when you were on top of your game.”

Kate isn’t listening. “Do whatever you want,” she says, downing the last of her beer before pushing her way past Reg to stalk towards the darkest corner of the bar.

Kate had seen her come in. She’s gorgeous; as tall as Kate, but dark eyed, and with skin browned by sun. She’s dressed for work, just like Kate, but in her case, work is probably in an office, without the field component.

It’s been three weeks since Nogales, and Kate probably should not be out, but goddammit, she’d gone shopping and she’s determined that someone see her in this set of white lace, before it goes grey. Graver didn’t get to take everything from her, Alejandro didn’t get to take everything from her. They took bars, they took confidence, they took safety. They didn’t get to take sex.

Kate reaches the table.

“Hi,” she says, and winces at how high her voice sounds. The other woman turns from her friends and looks at her. Her face is a smooth oval, framed by a cloud of black hair which she has valiantly attempted to contain in a French knot.

“Hi,” she replies.

With her typical finesse, Kate thrusts out her hand. “I’m Kate.”

The other woman takes her hand with a smile and says, “Alex.”

Kate freezes. _Of course, her name is Alex. Of course._

She shakes herself just in time. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“She already has one.” One of the friends. Christ, Kate had forgotten how much she hated other women when she wasn’t fucking them.

Alex turns and picks up her drink, something fruity looking. She reaches behind her friend, and pours it slowly onto the floor, keeping eye contact with Kate until the final drops of sangria and syrup have collected into a puddle on the tile.

“I’d love a drink.”

* * *

 

Half an hour later, they’re stumbling into Kate’s apartment, not drunk, but each unwilling to tear their lips away from the other.

Kate fumbles with the buttons of Alex’s blazer, jerking the sleeves down the other woman’s arms. She takes advantage of her slightly crouched position to latch to the underside of Alex’s jaw and to suck a lovebite the size of a quarter into the honeybrown skin.

“Please,” Alex whimpers, tugging at the hem of Kate’s shirt. It’s a new one, black, skin tight, long sleeved, somehow molding Kate’s bony frame into an expression of birdlike elegance.

Kate doesn’t want to take it off.

“Just a minute,” she pants, “just a minute, let’s do you first.”

They bypass the couch. Kate has an unspoken rule about fucking where you almost died, and besides, Alex is a nice girl, she deserves a bed.

She backs Alex down the hallway towards her bedroom, tugging off the other woman’s clothes and dropping them on the floor. By the time they reach the bed, Alex’s slacks are sliding off of their own accord to pool at her ankles. She tries to take off her heels but Kate stops her.

“No, no,” she whispers. “Leave those on.”

Alex groans and falls back onto the mattress. Kate delicately tugs the slacks over her heels, careful not to allow the fabric to catch or tear.

Soon the slacks sink into a dark mass on the ground, and Alex allows Kate to guide her to the edge of the mattress. Kate kneels between her legs, licking a long stripe up the other woman’s thigh.

“Trust me?” she whispers.

Alex groans. “Get your mouth on me, and I swear, I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

Kate reaches up with one hand to tug Alex’s panties to one side, reaching back with the other to fish her pack of Indian Creeks and a lighter out of her back pocket. She sucks Alex’s clit between her lips, and hums with satisfaction when the other woman throws her head back and curses.

She sits back on her heels and sticks a cigarette between her lips, as Alex looks on with wide eyes.

“I don’t do burning shit,” she says warily, as Kate flicks at her lighter.

“Don’t worry,” Kate mumbles. “This is nothing like that.”

Reaching up, she hooks her fingers into Alex’s panties, jerking them down to manacle her ankles. She spreads the labia delicately. She takes a long puff on the cigarette, then blows the warm smoke gently over Alex’s clit. She nuzzles against Alex’s leg, breathing in the warm scent of arousal, low tar smoke, and sweat. She stubs the cigarette out against the floor, seizes Alex by the hips, and proceeds to worship her with her mouth.

* * *

 

The next morning, Kate wakes in a haze of stupefied self satisfaction. She can hear a rustling sound from her bathroom, and she smirks to herself, thinking of the smooth curve of Alex’s spine in the Arizonan moonlight when she’d arched off the bed, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as Kate had made her come again, and again until – _Jesus fucking Christ, Kate, please don’t stop, please don’t ever stop._

Her eyebrows furrow when she hears a low mumble in the hallway. Alex must be on the phone. She’s speaking Spanish, but not the colloquial slang that Kate is used to hearing around town. It’s crisp, formal, like reading a dossier.

_Sí, jefé, lo comprendo. No, señor. Si, señor, ella está a salvo. Si, tengo mis instrucciones para las dos semanas siguientes. Si, Medellín._

A pause.

_Lo siento, señor. Lo no sucedera otra vez. No, señor, yo pienso que ella está durmiendo. Que quiere haga ahora?_

There’s a clicking sound. Kate doesn’t remember getting out of bed. She doesn’t remember taking her gun out of the nightstand drawer. She doesn’t know how she came to be standing in the hallway, the hammer cocked, and the muzzle pressed to the skin behind Alex’s ear.

“Turn around slowly,” and her voice is deathly quiet and still. Alex has gone quiet, and she turns painstakingly slow on her heel. Kate notices how pale she is, that her lips have gone white with fear. She feels a savage twist of pride that she can inspire this sort of terror.

She levels the barrel of the gun at Alex’s nose. “Hand me the phone.”

Alex extends her arm slowly, the phone in her shaking palm. Kate takes it, and tucks it between her ear and her shoulder, still keeping the gun trained on Alex. The other woman is crying now.

“ _Medellin,_ ” Kate whispers into the phone.

“Hello, Kate.”

Alejandro’s voice is quiet and unmoved, but it still burns Kate’s brain.

“What the fuck have you done?” Kate hisses.

“I was providing you a bodyguard.” Alejandro says, patiently.

“A cartel woman?” Kate laughs. “Some bodyguard.”

She can almost hear Alejandro’s shrug. “She’s a placeholder. Someone to keep an eye on you. Someone to coordinate with others who are better suited to keeping you out of danger.” His voice drops a note. “This is what happens when you don’t take my advice, Kate. You force me to tie up loose ends.”

“I’m a federal fucking agent, you cannot do this.”

“I can and I am. I am a more legitimate representative of American interests, foreign and domestic, than you will ever be.”

There is a long pause.

“Kate, let me assure you that this is in fact personal. You’re turf now. I don’t need to win neighborhoods, I don’t even need cities. I have you. The single most ethical, rule abiding agent in Arizona, and I’ve got you on my leash.”

“Like hell you do, I’m not on your fucking payroll.”

“But I’m on yours. And that’s a great big fucking secret.” The profanity rolls off his tongue so casually, that Kate’s eyes widen involuntarily.

“You went into the bank, Kate. You put yourself in their sights. You. Are. Fucked. And now I’m going to take care of it. Because if you end up in a dumpster, tits sliced off, and a bull’s dick stuffed down your throat, it means that I can’t protect my people. It means I can’t conduct business, and it means that the two children I killed three weeks ago, in an attempt to stabilize your country's shit show of a drug war, will have died for nothing.”

Kate takes a shaky breath.

“I’m going to hang up now.” Alejandro says, mildly. “Do not shoot the girl, she doesn’t mean you any harm.”

“You really fucking think I would?”

Alejandro pauses. “There are stranger things under heaven than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Katherine.”

“That isn’t the line.”

“Does it matter?”

And the line goes dead.  


End file.
